


safe in your arms

by jilliancares, orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Autistic Keith, Established Relationship, Klance Reverse Bang 2018, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-War, Sensory Overload, its really. soft, klance, lov them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 11:54:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14424876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jilliancares/pseuds/jilliancares, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After returning to Earth after the war, Keith decides to take the team to a pride parade, despite the noise and cacophony of it all being something he’d rather avoid.





	safe in your arms

**Author's Note:**

> this was written (mostly by [jillian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jilliancares/pseuds/jilliancares), love that QUEEN, absolute ANGEL) for the Klance Reverse Bang 2018, which i helped mod!!
> 
> accompanied by awesome [art](http://the-squirrel-queen.tumblr.com/post/173271386950/im-so-excited-to-finally-share-my-piece-for-the) by [dani](http://the-squirrel-queen.tumblr.com/) (also a legend, go check out their other arts!!) 
> 
> also yall should go check out the other works on our [blog](https://klancereversebang.tumblr.com/) theyre all rlly good Trust Me
> 
> also on a more serious note im really sorry if anything about this is inaccurate or misrepresentative, we worked with and asked advice from people with experience either with being on the spectrum or who know people who are, and we tried to make sure it was as close to accurate as possible. i hope its ok!!

It’d been Keith’s idea to go to the parade.

He’d known immediately that it’d been the last thing anyone had expected to come out of his mouth. They’d shared looks of surprise, eyes wide and mouths pursed as they’d tried to conceal just how surprised they were, which they all did a horrible job of.

But Keith was observant. He’d known how much everyone had wanted to go to the pride parade, could see it on their faces, in the longing looks they’d sent out the windows. Even from Hunk and Lance’s apartment, the sounds of the parade were decipherable, loud and obnoxious and so clearly what all his friends wanted to be a part of.

Keith understood, in part. He knew that it was only partly the atmosphere — the screaming, the cheering, the everyone-close-and-touching. Knew that more of it was the _principle_ of the occurrence, the being surrounded by a crowd of people just like them, each and every one of them as proud of their existence as they should be. Keith just wished they could celebrate and be a part of the whole experience without having to be so close to everyone else. It’d be nicer if they could all stand a respectable distance from each other in the street and talk at a normal volume instead of screaming for what seemed like no reason at all.

“Hey,” Lance said, the first to step forward. He always was. He always knew what to say, it seemed like, and Keith couldn’t remember a time he hadn’t been jealous of him. Everyone Lance met instantly fell in love with him, unable to help smiling at him and laughing at all his jokes, even though a lot of the time they didn’t make sense. “We don’t have to go.”

“I want to go,” Keith said, lying through his teeth. Staying home seemed like it would be a much better time, to him. What was the point of renting an apartment and decorating it and making it an enjoyable space if you were just going to try to leave it all the time?

Lance crossed his arms and gave Keith a _look_. Since probably forever, Lance had been able to read Keith as easily as a book. It felt invasive, how easily he could figure out what Keith was thinking, as if he’d just stepped forward and started rifling through the pages of his mind, finger running under the words that very clearly spelled out, _we should stay home_.

“I’m serious,” Keith said, crossing his arms as well and trying to imitate Lance’s face. He dragged his eyes to everyone else in the room, too, trying to express just how serious he was. His friends did things for him all the time — little things, nice things, things they barely even thought twice about doing for him — and he just wanted to give something back. 

Earlier, they’d decided that they would meet at Hunk and Lance’s place to hang out during the parade. No one had really said anything, but Keith knew it was because of him. They hadn’t wanted to all go to the parade without him, and so they’d done that thing they often did where they adapted their lives and schedules for him. He wouldn’t mind if they all went out there and had fun by themselves, honestly, but they were too noble or stubborn or something to do so. 

And so here Keith was. He was going to make them go to that parade and have the experience they so clearly wanted, and he was going to do it the only way he knew how.

“We really don’t mind staying in,” Lance insisted, and he stepped forward again, craning his neck down a little to look at Keith. His hand came up to rest against Keith’s side, his thumb brushing lightly up and down.

Lance was always doing that. Touching him.

Ever since they’d been flung into space, he’d been doing it. He could even vaguely recollect Lance from their Garrison days, a presence that you couldn’t help but notice. Lance had been one of those boys that was loud and obnoxious and the embodiment of everything Keith wanted to avoid. He liked the quiet. He liked things that made sense. He’d liked things that _weren’t Lance_.

Lance had a big family, and big families touched each other constantly, it seemed like, because Lance had always had a problem with keeping his hands to himself. He didn’t even seem to understand the concept of a personal bubble, so when Keith had first _really_ met him, when they were all settled and resigned to saving the universe in a flying futuristic space castle or whatever, he’d hated him. He’d constantly been batting his hands away and glaring at him and telling him to _take a step back, will you?_

In the end, Lance’s touch was about the only one he’d ever grown really used to. And now… Well, he was even more used to it now.

“And I really don’t mind going out,” Keith said stubbornly. Lance gave him a look that was a mixture of fondness and exasperation. “Let’s go,” Keith said, taking a step around Lance and towards the door. 

“What, like this?” Pidge said, finally speaking up. A smile was stretching across their face, though, one full of excitement, and Keith knew he couldn’t regret his decision.

“What do you mean?”

“We aren’t exactly wearing what most people wear to pride parades,” they explained. “They’re usually a little more… colorful.”

“Are you _sure_ you want to go?” Lance said, grabbing Keith’s elbow as he frowned at him from behind.

“I’m sure,” Keith said. “Really, _really_ sure,” he added, before Lance could insert his next line of, ‘ _really sure_?’

“Fine,” Lance said. “Then I have just what we’ll need.”

The next fifteen minutes consisted of raiding Lance’s closet. This was something Keith did often, though usually not along with the rest of their friends, and definitely not with Lance’s permission, either.

He just liked Lance’s clothes. He liked the way they fit him, just a little too big, and how they smelled like Lance’s laundry. He would sneak them home and wear them whenever Lance wasn’t around. Every once in a while, Lance would come across one of these stolen shirts, and he’d just scoff, holding it up as he raised his eyebrows accusingly. Keith never really knew what to do at that point. Usually he just crossed his arms and glared at his boyfriend, waiting for him to put down the shirt and forget about the occurrence entirely.

“I was saving these for Christmas, actually,” Lance was saying, as he shoved himself deeper into his closet and smushed himself against the wall, his arm patting somewhere around the back shelf for whatever he was looking for. 

“That’s like, six months away!” Pidge protested, and Lance shrugged.

“I know you all think I’m a procrastinator — and I am — but Christmas is different. I’m the Christmas God.”

“No you’re not,” Keith said automatically.

“Well, I could be,” Lance said. “I’m that good,” he pulled out a box and dumped the contents on the floor, tossing the now empty box back into the closet unceremoniously. “Merry Christmas, everyone!”

“ _Yes_!” Pidge exclaimed, diving into the pile and coming up with a shirt that read, _binaries are for computers_. “Haha, sweet!”

“Aw, Lance,” Allura said, picking up her own shirt, now. The owners of each were clear. “These are amazing.”

“I do what I can,” Lance sighed dramatically, picking up a shirt as well. He’d gotten himself a Christmas gift too, it seemed. He pulled his shirt over his head and Keith’s mouth went dry. He stared as Lance tossed it onto his bed across the room and pulled on his replacement shirt, which had _it ain’t no lie, baby, bi bi bi_ across the chest. Once he was situated again, he caught Keith staring and winked.

Keith immediately looked away. Allura had tugged her shirt over the tank-top she’d been wearing previously, and she observed herself in Lance’s (disgusting, covered in smudges) mirror, smiling at herself. Her shirt said bi-furious across the chest in a cursive font.

“Alright, where’s mine?” Shiro said, and Hunk tossed him his shirt.

“Wait a minute, Hunk,” Lance said, pointing a finger at Hunk accusingly. Hunk immediately looked guilty. “How did you know that was Shiro’s shirt?”

“Lucky guess?” Hunk said hopefully. He was holding another shirt in his hand. It said _down with cis_.

Shiro’s said _trans guys are hotter_.

Lance glared at Hunk. “You snooped.”

Hunk, predictably, caved. “I snooped.”

Lance just sighed, obviously too used to this treatment to be surprised, and ducked down to retrieve the last shirt. “Here, babe.”

Keith managed to catch the shirt, holding it out in front of him to read the words written across the front. It looked similar to one of those ‘I heart NY’ shirts, but instead of NY, it said BF, and the heart was rainbow.

“Cocky,” Keith commented, pressing his lips together to hold back a smile. Lance just grinned, spreading his arms wide.

“Am I wrong?”

Keith smacked him with the shirt as he walked past him towards the bathroom to change, and by the time he got back everyone was dressed and ready to go. Pidge smeared face paint on everyone as they were trying to finally get out the door — Keith got rainbow patterns on his cheeks — and then they were finally exiting the apartment building, piling out onto the street and heading in the direction of the commotion.

It was exactly one of the situations that, had Keith come across it naturally, would’ve made him turn around and nope the fuck out of there. He’d never been a fan of excessive noise and movement. 

Still he wasn’t coming across this parade naturally. He’d volunteered for it, willingly put himself in this situation, and so he pushed his shoulders back and marched into the chaos with his friends.

All around, people were going wild, screaming and sprinting and chanting like they’d never have another chance to. Everyone was decked out in some kind of pride outfit, almost as if it was the uniform. Pidge was right about making them change before leaving the apartment. A man sprinted past Keith, his chest bare with a painted on rainbow as a rainbow cape billowed behind him.

“You good?” Lance murmured, suddenly gripping Keith’s elbow. Keith nodded, and he wasn’t lying. Being with Lance could always make him feel better. There was something comforting and familiar and safe about him, something that made Keith feel fine even in situations where he was uncomfortable.

“All right, lemme know if that changes,” Lance said, winding an arm around his waist. “We can leave whenever — I really don’t mind.”

Keith nodded with a roll of his eyes, mentally pointing out that there was no way he was going to make them go home, not after all he’d done to get them here. He could deal with this. He could deal with the… shouting. And the shoving. And the cheering and singing and pushing and parading. 

Keith pressed himself just a little bit closer to Lance.

For the most part, Keith managed to enjoy himself. It was clear to see how much fun his friends were having, all of them constantly fixed with wide, bright smiles on their faces. At some point Shiro had disappeared, returning with colorful slushies for all of them. And Hunk bought them all little pins from stands and people they passed. Keith laughed along with everyone else when Pidge climbed up to Hunk’s shoulders, towering above the rest of the crowd and making their voice heard throughout any chants and songs that occurred.

Many people complimented Keith on his shirt, looking between him and Lance with obvious joy and appreciation. Keith always thanked them, but Lance would step forward and mention how he’d bought it for Keith, coupled with dramatic, sweeping hand gestures. Keith loved the idiot way too much.

All in all, Keith wasn’t having the horrible time he’d been expecting. All throughout his decision to convince his friends to go to the parade, a decision that involved a lot of internal debate and convincing himself, he’d been expecting for himself to suffer. He’d been expecting to feel supremely uncomfortable, to experience the entire thing while standing stiffly, moving awkwardly through the crowd and counting down the seconds until he could get back to the apartment.

Instead, he was more or less surrounded by a bubble of his friends, wrapped up in their own antics instead of whatever the rest of the crowd was doing. Or at least, he was — until the shirtless cowboys came.

No, really.

A hoard of shirtless cowboys, all wearing jeans, cowboy boots, and cowboy hats, came swarming through the crowd, _yee-haw_ ing and gathering an uproar of cheers. Most of them had rainbows painted over their naked chests, and a handful were even swinging lassos in the air.

When they ran through the crowd, a stream of them zipped between Keith and his friends, laughing as they pretended to gallop through the crowd. One man grabbed Keith’s arm, dragging him along and dancing him through the crowd. Just as soon as he’d grabbed him, he let go, and Keith was alone and _separated_.

His heart was pounding, his cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and panic. He spun in a circle, trying to find his friends, but he was too panicked to really even take in the crowd. He could barely make sense of the people closest to him, much less his friends some further distance from him.

People were still surrounding him on all sides, loud and obnoxious and talking, talking, _talking_. Their laughter was grating, their voices too loud in his ears. And they wouldn’t stop touching him, bodies bumping into his, mindless of the personal space he so desperately needed.

Keith realized that he wasn’t really breathing, was instead gasping for air, trying desperately to suck oxygen down into his lungs. He pressed his hands over his ears, closing his eyes and hunching in on himself, trying so hard to _think_ over the raucousness of this stupid parade. He couldn’t organize his thoughts, couldn’t think to make himself do anything, instead just infused with panic. It was strung throughout every fiber of his being. He just wanted to collapse to the ground and curl up into himself, but some distant part of his mind clung onto the fact that he could be trampled.

Two hands landed on Keith’s shoulders, _hot_ and _close_ and _touching him_ , and Keith’s eyes flew open, tears clinging to his eyelashes. There was a man in front of him, his mouth moving, his eyebrows drawn down. Keith couldn’t hear him. This man was touching him. Why was he touching him? Keith’s shoulders hunched in and in on himself, trying to dislodge him while still plugging his ears and — oh right, that’s why he couldn’t hear him.

Keith lifted his hands, realizing he was still gasping for air, now that he was able to hear it.

“Dude? Seriously, are you okay? Do you need to get out of here?” He was looking at Keith intently, his eyes burning into Keith’s own, and Keith looked away, to the guy’s ear, and then to his own feet, shaking his head.

He made a small sound in the back of his throat, his mouth struggling to form words, before something in his brain clicked and he managed to stutter out, “Don’t t-touch me.”

The guy released Keith, raising his hands into the air and looking… annoyed? Angry? He scoffed, muttering, “Whatever,” under his breath and backing away. Keith was panicking again. That person had wanted to help him, right? And he’d pushed him away, the one person in the crowd who’d even noticed he was having a panic attack.

Lance would’ve noticed. Where was Lance?

Keith whimpered, finally stumbling through the crowd, pushing through people until he was along the fringes, and from there trailing along a building, and from there side-stepping into an alley and leaning against the brick wall.

He collapsed against it, sliding down until he was sitting on the ground with his head between his legs, heaving for breath and slowly beginning to calm down, his fingers fluttering anxiously against the hem of his pant legs, twisting the material around his fingers again and again.

“Keith!” Keith’s head jerked up, relief flooding through his entire being as he saw Lance, now with a bi flag wrapped around his shoulders, standing at the end of the alley, hurrying closer to Keith and ducking down in front of him. “Dude, I’ve been looking everywhere for you — are you all right? Can I touch you?”

Keith nodded, not because he was alright, though he would be soon with Lance here, no doubt, and reached out a hand, letting Lance pull him to his feet and into his arms. Lance hugged him carefully, lightly at first, his arms settled around his waist and his lips pressing a kiss against Keith’s temple.

“I’m sorry that happened,” he breathed. His thumb edged under the back of Keith’s shirt, just pressing against the small of his back, warm.

“Mmm.”

“Let’s go back to the apartment,” Lance suggested. “I’ll even rewatch that movie you’re obsessed with right now. Again.”

Keith chuckled, stepping away from Lance but letting him link their hands. “It’s not a movie, it’s a documentary,” Keith corrected. They were walking now, cutting down the alley and a different street to avoid the parade, which was getting quieter and quieter the further they got from it. “And it’s interesting. Mothman is _out there_.”

“If you say so,” Lance snorted, but he turned to look at Keith with a smile, his eyes crinkling, and he squeezed Keith’s hand.

“I say so,” Keith grumbled, but he wasn’t really irritated. He was already imagining them back at the apartment, curled up in Lance’s bed with his laptop on Keith’s stomach. Lance would wrap an arm around his shoulders, and half-way through he’d start trying to distract Keith with kisses, having grown bored. Keith would protest at first, insisting he wanted to finish it, but he just might end up letting Lance’s distract him.

**Author's Note:**

> go send ur love to both jillian and dani and everyone else that participated bc theyre all super lit thank u


End file.
